


It Wasn’t a Car Crash, I’m Sure

by PrincessErii



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Briseis is salty, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, achilles doesn’t remember, briseis also has visions, briseis doesn’t like Achilles at first, i guess, idk I plan to continue with this but I kinda impulse wrote it, idk what this fic is yet, patroclus has visions of his past life, ptsd-like scenarios, she’s getting over some bad memories from Troy okay?, stan patroclus, tbh no one else remembers, they reincarnated and find each other basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessErii/pseuds/PrincessErii
Summary: Ever since waking up from a coma five years ago, Patroclus has continually had migraines that sometimes cause strange visions he calls ‘memories’. His therapist claims it’s just ‘anterograde amnesia’ or otherwise his brain trying to figure out the car crash that caused his coma in the first place, but Patroclus isn’t so sure.Achilles is the star of the track team at Achea Academy, set to become the next major athlete in the State. When he’s forced to attend a special offers biology class for the ‘Hawking lot’ from Hawking State High as a detention, he ends up on a path he never expected, especially when it came to the kid in the corner with the oddly familiar face.Aka: Patroclus remembers Achilles. Achilles doesn’t remember anything about his past life. Briseis is just trying to get through high school and Dr Chiron might know more than he’s letting on.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus
Comments: 21
Kudos: 148





	1. Molecules And Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not American so I have no idea how accurate this is to US high school. If you notice any inaccuracies I’d love to know so I can fix them :)
> 
> Also, I wrote this on impulse after reading the Iliad and getting all that Achilles angst. No clue if I’ll update but if I do I have a lot of ideas sooooo

Dr Chiron swiftly plucked Achilles’ phone right out of his hands as he walked past. “One of the fundamental differences between DNA and RNA,” he carried on with the lesson, not even looking up from his textbook, “is that deoxyribose only occurs in DNA. Remember, this is the sort of information you need to know for the multiple choice section. There’s no point in losing easy marks there.”

He paced around the rest of the front desks, slipping Achilles’ phone into his pocket as he began to make his way down the middle of the grey lab room. His steps and the whir of the projector were all that could be heard. The room had about twenty students in it, all intently watching the clock or scribbling doodles in their notebooks while trying to ignore the heavy smell of disinfectant that seemed to cling to the place as if it were a doctor’s office. In fact, we’re it not for the crude, clear aprons, trays of safety goggles and bag racks, the place could very easily have been in a medical building. Each lab desk was large enough for four students and had a sink, work area, gas taps and cupboards underneath them for storing equipment.  
  
“Phthia,” Dr Chiron stopped at the back of the room and turned back to Achilles, who was still looking at his hands as if surprised that he’d been caught, “would you be able to tell the class of the nitrogenous base that occurs in RNA but not DNA?”

Achilles just leaned back in his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his red jersey. “Well, sir,” he said bitterly, “perhaps if I could google it I could tell you?”

A breathy chuckle swept around the class. Dr Chiron, however, made his way back to the front. He held up Achilles’ phone and very clearly placed it on his desk. Sitting down on his chair, he didn’t once break eye contact with his troublesome student. “And perhaps if you come to collect your phone after school today, you’ll be able to. Until then, you can tell me the nitrogenous base that occurs in RNA but not DNA.”

“Well I obviously don’t know it, do I?”

“And why don’t you?”

“‘Cause I’ve been training. Track takes up all my time right now. Sciences aren’t exactly a priority.”

Dr Chiron visibly held in an exasperated sigh. Squeezing his eyes shut, he drummed his fingers on his desk before stiffly opening the draw underneath it. “You can still come here after school to collect your phone,” he said, placing the phone inside and shutting it loudly, “...after serving detention. I don’t have time right now to try and explain why biology is a must-have for someone like you, so can anybody tell me the answer to my question?” He looked around the room.

In the end Odysseus raised his hand. As usual, he’d had the answer all along. Hearing the squeaking of the pen on the whiteboard as Dr Chiron continued the lesson, Achilles slumped in his seat and glared at his teacher’s back, his foot tapping the ground. Every few seconds his gaze flicked to the clock. Ten minutes, five minutes, three minutes, one minute...

The bell blared in the corridor. Immediately, everyone began packing their things away and filing out to last period. A few students tossed scrunched up notes into the trash can on the way out, sometimes missing so the paper rolled along the floor. The racks of safety glasses were also a mess from how lazily they’d been put away earlier in the lesson.

Dr Chiron looked at the mess and rested his head in his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you all to keep the lab tidy? Safety is important. Not to mention, this room represents the school now. The Hawking Lot are coming this evening.”

No one was listening. They were too occupied pushing through the doorway to run to their next classes. Achilles lingered back a few moments, hoping Dr Chiron might go to his next class quickly so he could snatch up his phone there and then. No such thing happened. In fact, Dr Chiron remained in his chair, organising his pens with a conceited smile on his face. When Achilles was the last to reach the door, it was clear he wasn’t going to get his phone back before math.

“I know what you’re trying, Phthia,” Dr Chiron said as Achilles swung the door open. “Tell you what? If you sit through tonight’s class to serve your detention, I won’t contact your father about your...repeated transgressions. The Hawking Lot are a good group. You might learn a thing or two from them if you pay attention.”

Achilles rolled his eyes, his foot jamming the door. “I’ll come,” he said, eyeing the weather through the window. “Track’s probably cancelled today anyway. Not got anything better to do. I can assure you though I will learn nothing.”

With that, he let the door fall closed. Off to math it was.

* * *

It was as if stepping into another world. As usual, Patroclus couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer beauty of Achea Academy, from its statues of the founders lining the roadway towards a marble fountain to its Corinthian pillars that welcomed students and visitors to the main entrance atop a flight of stairs. The place could easily be compared to a Greek temple of old. Hedgerows either side of the roadway cut off the various sports facilities, be they the humongous football field or the athletics track. Apparently the place even had a swimming pool of its own!

Usually when the students from Hawking State High arrived at the towering gates, the various sports teams were busy at practice. Today, however, the grounds were silent and bare; the rain had let up just before the final bell but it had been enough to get most after school activities cancelled. This was, to Patroclus at least, a relief of sorts. So many times he’d walked towards the entrance of this place thinking only about what if he was one of those students? Running through its halls every day, turning up to class with a smile and a large pile of books and folders in his arms. He would help the science department after school, join in club activities and perhaps win awards for entering competitions. Of course though, it was nothing more than a pipe dream. All he could do for now was lug his rucksack of notes to the Special Offers class the academy ran after school on Tuesdays. He lingered towards the back of the group of Hawking students all on their way to take the class that might mean their chance at getting into a good college.

“The sky looks nice today,” mused Briseis, coming back next to Patroclus. “You think it’s an omen?”

Patroclus looked up. Sure enough, the clouds were stained purple, with the setting sun casting pink highlights on their edges. They drifted along a darkening sky that was still slightly too light to allow the stars to peak through.

Patroclus adjusted his bag straps. “Is everything an omen to you these days?” He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Ever since the memory yesterday, I suppose so.”

“Which one? The one with the horses? Or the one with the tent?”

“The ocean, actually.”

Briseis brushed out her tight curls while Patroclus tensed. “Oh, right,” he said apologetically.

The group of students made their way around the fountain and up the flight of stairs. From there they entered the main reception and registered at the front desk. The entire time, Patroclus and Briseis remained in complete silence. Since they’d been there several times, they knew where to go and soon were huddled outside the lab in the science department that would be their classroom for the evening.

“Pat, you know I’m not that bothered mentioning the ocean?” Briseis finally said as Dr Chiron unlocked the room to let them in.

“I know. It’s just...about my memory. That whole experience was so...” Patroclus faded out, letting his rucksack fall onto the empty seat next to his. He slumped down and started unpacking but his movements were stiff and even somewhat shaky at times.

“I get you,” said Briseis. “If you feel uncomfortable today, let me know. I’ll tell Dr Chiron for you.”

The lesson began with a review of the past month, mostly biomolecule stuff. Patroclus scribbled notes and looked over a test given back to him, but as the lesson went on a deep uneasiness began to well up inside him. That conversation with Briseis had really hit something and whatever it was kept coming back. Were they memories? That’s what him and Briseis called them but that was purely due to the lack of a better word to describe them. ‘Visions’ sounded too magical. ‘Dreams’ wouldn’t be right either. No, the vague images, sounds and even smells and textures seemed too real whenever they crossed Patroclus’ mind; as if they _were_ memories. But then, how could that be possible?

Luckily, they stayed relatively at bay. Occasionally Patroclus had to take a deep breath or shake his head to clear it and the twangs of a migraine were beginning to creep up, but he zoned his focus in on Dr Chiron’s words and kept writing notes. Line after line. Page after page. No matter what, he was going to stay on the lesson.

“I think it’s about time we took a short break,” Dr Chiron said eventually, looking at his watch. “There’s refreshments in the canteen. I trust you can all find your way there. We’ll resume where we left off in fifteen minutes.”

The class filed out, chatting to each other in small groups, until only Patroclus and Briseis were left. Dr Chiron was sorting out some file paper when he looked up and saw the two of them.

“Not going today?” He asked.

“If it’s okay, we’d like to stay here,” said Briseis, eyeing Patroclus.

Patroclus nodded. “Migraine,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

Dr Chiron smiled understandingly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “If you need to go to the nurse’s office, I can take you,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. I’m used to it. It’s not that bad today.”

“Well then you just stay there and rest. Briseis, if you’re going to stay too then can you help me with these?” He held up the filing paper. “One in each seat. We’ll be using them for the couple of next weeks for drawing molecular models.”

“Sure.”

As they were handing the papers out to the various places, Dr Chiron started rambling. “I’m sorry for all this. A student of mine is supposed to be serving detention with me right now and I’d hoped he’d be the one doing this. Oh well, he’s always been more of the sports type. I should’ve known he’d skive off.”

“It seems like you’re either into sports or science these days,” said Briseis. “If anything it’s good to not have one of ‘those guys’ here. He’d probably just interrupt the lesson.”

“Chances are he’ll be over to collect his phone once you’re all gone. Can’t go home without it. I’ll just put him in detention tomorrow and contact his father.”

Patroclus meanwhile was rubbing his forehead profusely. This migraine was really getting worse. He stood up and made for the door, blinking repeatedly and breathing heavily. The door closed behind him with a click. 

The restrooms were just down the hall, past a wall of lockers. They were echoey and had a sensor light that flickered on as Patroclus stumbled in. He slammed his hands either side of one of the sinks. The pain in his head worsened. First came a mild ache, accompanied by a distant, muffled sound of shouting. Next, it rose like a wave, joined by choking smells. Sweat. Smoke. Blood. Patroclus turned on the tap and splashed his face just as the vague taste of iron filled his mouth and a sharp pain spiked through his head. He held his face in his hands, water dripping through his hair. Pressing his palms into his eye sockets, he was met with a flash of metallic bronze. A deep, guttural scream desperately tried to tear out of his throat but he bit his lip, keeping the scream down.

Just as quickly as the pain had come, it vanished. Suddenly, he was back there in the restroom in front of the sink. The water was still running in a calm stream around the bowl. Splashing his face a few more times, Patroclus heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the mirror opposite him. There he was. His hair and face were covered in water droplets, his eyes were red-rimmed and where he’d bitten his lip a mark now remained among several others he’d made before, including a few scars where he’d pierced his skin.

Was it a memory? It sure felt like one. How could it not be? Patroclus leaned against the sink. Grounding. He needed grounding. Five things he could see? His reflection, the stalls behind him, a ‘wet floor’ sign propped up against the wall, a crack in the tile floor and the fake marble that made up the sinks. Then four things he could hear? The tap water burbling, the quiet hum of the ventilation fan, his own breaths steadily becoming more regular and the occasional gurgle of a pipe. Three things he could feel? Water droplets trickling down his face, his denim jeans against his skin and his plaid jacket tied loosely around his waist. Two things he could smell? Cleaning disinfectant and soap. One thing he could say?

“Anterograde amnesia my ass.”

He stayed there a little longer, then dried his face on his shirt sleeves and turned off the tap. Walking away, his vision was still a little uneasy but, then again, it always was after an episode such as this one. Should he ask to leave class early perhaps? He hummed in contemplation, coming around the corner to go back to the main corridor. As soon as he stepped out, blond filled his vision.

Next thing he knew he was on the floor. Pain shot through his tailbone.

“Oh god, man, I’m sorry!”

Patroclus hissed and clenched his fist. Was the migraine not enough pain for one day? What did the universe have against him to give him more physical abuse? Barely holding back a plethora of curses, he looked up to see an outstretched hand. Following the arm up to the shoulder, then the face, he audibly gasped. That blond hair. Those eyes one could get lost in. The jawbone.

It couldn’t be...

“...Achilles..?”


	2. Don’t Walk Down The Science Corridor If You’re Meant To Be Serving Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look you guys! I did continue this after all! Of course, don’t expect Homer quality or anything lol. I’m just writing by the seat of my pants here and having fun along the way. 
> 
> I will reiterate, I do not go to an American school, so if you guys see anything inaccurate then please tell me!
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy :)

A confused frown laced onto Achilles’ brow. “Yeah, that’s me,” me said somewhat uneasily. “You heard of me or something?”

The boy in front of him began to reach out for his hand, then stopped. Hesitating, he eventually pushed himself to his feet. The entire time he didn’t once break eye contact with Achilles. In fact, it was as if he were dedicating every inch of Achilles’ face to memory, gazing over Achilles’ lips, cheeks, hair and everything else. An overjoyed smile spread a cross his face, his eyes glistening with hints of tears, and he held his hand to his forehead in disbelief.

“I just can’t believe it’s really _you_... _here_!” he said, his voice shaky.

Achilles looked away and cautiously put his hands in his pockets. This boy wasn’t from Achea Academy, that much was definite. His clothes were all off-brand and he didn’t carry himself with the confidence every other student in the academy seemed to. Still, this interaction wasn’t exactly annoying; Achilles actually quite enjoyed the knowledge that someone from a different school knew about him. Perhaps he had a whole fan club? Nevertheless, this had to be the worst time to run into someone on the science corridor. Dr Chiron could pop out at any moment to drag him to detention.

“Look, I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me,” Achilles said, trying not to sound rushed, “but I’m in a hurry.”

The boy continued to stare for a moment, then his smile began to fall. “Achilles?” He sounded uncertain now. “It’s me, Patroclus.”

“Am I supposed to know that name?”

The words had come out before he’d even processed them.

Patroclus tensed. Immediately he looked away briefly and hunched his shoulders. “You don’t remember?”

“Pat!”

Both boys turned to see a girl coming down the hall. Once again, this was an unfamiliar face. She stopped a little way away from the two of them and Achilles saw her mouth hang agape. Her arms tensed at her sides as she took in a shocked breath. After a few moments, she shook off the strangeness and came right up to them. Placing a hand on Patroclus’ shoulder, she seemed to completely ignore Achilles.

“Dr Chiron was worried about you. You left so suddenly,” she said. “You sure you can handle the rest of the lesson?”

“Bris,” said Patroclus, “you recognise him, don’t you? It’s Achilles. From the memories? Achilles,” he sounded desperate now, “you’ve gotta remember. We were all together in that hut.”

Achilles saw the girl’s hand stiffen on Patroclus’ shoulder. Her eyes narrowed and he could have sworn she glanced over at him coldly. “Come on,” she said after a while. “Your migraine must’ve been pretty bad.”

With that, she almost dragged him away. Patroclus didn’t protest too much, but he did look back just long enough to see Achilles watching them go. Achilles stayed where he was for a few more seconds, pondering what was up with the two of them. There was something about that boy though. Perhaps they had met before? Maybe during one of the summer camps Achilles had attended? He’d used to play with other kids there a long time ago before starting summer track training. Maybe he’d met those two during camp and he’d just forgotten about it? The boy’s face was now, upon recollection, bringing forth some sort of response inside him. It wasn’t quite nostalgia but still the hints of familiarity were too clear to ignore.

That was when Achilles realised he was still standing in the middle of the science corridor. Just as he was about to carry on down the hall though, the oh so familiar voice of Dr Chiron echoed from down the hall as Patroclus and Briseis entered the lab.

* * *

“There you are!” Dr Chiron said with relief as Briseis closed the door behind her and Patroclus. “You feeling alright? Need to go to the nurse?”

Patroclus had his eyes glued to his shoes. His hands clutched his chest and he slouched his shoulders. Very slowly, he shook his head. “I’m fine now,” he said, somewhat detached. “It usually passes quickly.”

With that he shuffled over to his desk and slumped back into his seat. Briseis and Dr Chiron exchanged a look, then Briseis went over to sit down too. There was a brief silence.

“I knew it was him,” she said eventually, leaning on the desk and picking at her pink acrylic nails. “Achilles.”

“Achilles?” Dr Chiron interjected. “So he _is_ still snooping about the place. Won’t be a minute, you two. If the others come back before I return, just tell them I’m tracking down a bad student of mine. Don’t touch anything.”

With that, he sped out of the room. After the door clicked shut, Patroclus also leaned on the desk and held his head in his hands. He let out a long, laboured sigh. “I didn’t try to touch him,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go through another memory tsunami.”

“I say let him get all those memories at once if it’s gonna hurt his head. Give him all that skin-to-skin contact. I should’ve touched his hand and then he would’ve gotten what he deserved...but if it would hurt you, after having a migraine and all, then I guess it was the best thing to do...hey, remember when we first accidentally made the memories appear? I fell over from the shock and bruised my hip really bad.” Briseis chuckled at her own anecdote but, as she looked over at Patroclus, her brow contorted with worry. “You weren’t expecting that reaction when you found him, were you?”

“He doesn’t even remember my name. He said it so clearly in the memories. Pa-tro-clus. You remembered him too. Why doesn’t he remember me- I mean us?”

Briseis shrugged and began sorting through her notes. “You’re absolutely sure you can stay for the rest of the class?” She decided to change the topic.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patroclus sat up straight and exhaled a deep breath. “It’s not like I can just leave you to walk home alone.”

Just as he said that, the door swung open and the first members of the rest of the class wandered in to sit back in their seats on the other side of the room. Everyone else trickled in over the next few minutes and soon they were all sitting waiting for Dr Chiron to return. A few minutes after the lesson was due to pick back up, their teacher did indeed return, and this time as he entered the lab there was a rather fed up student tagging at his heels.

Patroclus immediately felt his stomach drop.

“Everyone,” Dr Chiron said, leaning against his desk, “this here is Achilles Phthia. He’ll be sitting through the rest of tonight’s class because he thought it would be a good idea to use his phone during my lesson. Hopefully this will never happen again, will it, Phthia?”

Achilles just stood with his hands in his pockets. “No, sir,” he grumbled, his hair covering most of his lowered face.

“Very good. There’s a spare seat next to Briseis over there,” he pointed to where Patroclus had been trying to make himself look as small and insignificant as possible. “I’m sure her and Patroclus can catch you up. I hear you might already be acquainted?”

A murmur spread around the classroom at the mention of Patroclus and Briseis possibly knowing someone from Achea Academy. Patroclus on the other hand was staring at his notebook, his thumbs playing with each other in a stressed frenzy. His heart was racing and his foot tapped the floor repeatedly.

Briseis didn’t seem too thrilled to see Achilles there but nevertheless put on a smile. As Achilles sat down next to her, she pulled out some paper from her notebook and passed it over to him along with a spare pen. She also pushed her textbook over so they were sharing. Next to her, Patroclus had turned his head towards the board and was watching every movement Dr Chiron made. He rested his chin in his hand to block out Achilles from his peripheral vision.

Achilles eyed the two cautiously. “So,” he said awkwardly under his breath while Dr Chiron was sorting out some molecular diagrams, “you’re Briseis? Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand automatically.

Briseis took one look at his hand, then started rummaging through her pencilcase for a pencil and eraser. “Nice to meet you too,” she said, handing them into Achilles’ outstretched palm.

“Not ones for contact then?” said Achilles, eyeing Patroclus and remembering how he’d not taken Achilles’ hand to help himself up.

“You could say that,” said Briseis, not even making eye contact. “Now then, are you going to distract me the entire lesson? Or can I actually get some work done? Bear in mind I only get this class once a week.”

“Wow, someone’s a little feisty.”

“There’s much more where that came from, trust me.”

And so the lesson continued with Dr Chiron explaining the differences between molecular diagrams to the class. Everyone else copied the images that he showed on the board. Achilles, after a couple of minutes of watching the others actually doing work, took up his pen and began to doodle dicks on his piece of paper, winning him a disgusted grimace from Briseis. The sheer concentration woven into his face as he sketched another crude drawing was almost embarrassing.

“Next, the different alkane hydrocarbons,” said Dr Chiron. “Phthia, why don’t you come draw propane for us?”

Shit.

“I didn’t even know the answer to whatever you asked me earlier,” Achilles responded, not even looking up from his doodles. “Why in the world would I know what ‘propaim’ looks like?”

“ _Propane_ , Phthia. Well then, if you weren’t listening when we covered that either, then this is how you draw hydrocarbons.”

He continued with the lesson and Achilles just heaved a heavy sigh. Briseis, having had enough of his behaviour, rolled her eyes and leaned over to Patroclus. “You’re sure he’s the one?”

Patroclus tensed. “Yes I am,” he murmured, “I know how you feel about..all of that...but I swear I’m not making up anything I told you before. If you want to know my current opinion though...that was a pretty easy question.”

“Yeah yeah,” Achilles butted in rather nonchalantly.

Both Patroclus and Briseis spun their heads to look at him, Heat rose in Patroclus’ cheeks, even after he saw Achilles casually scribbling flowers around his page of dicks and not paying him any mind.

Achilles put down his pencil. “I’m a dumb jock who can’t answer simple simple science questions. What’s new?”

Patroclus jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry if I sounded rude.”

“No offence taken,” Achilles shrugged. “I’m out of my element here. I probably do look like an idiot to all you guys.”

“And you’re not worried about that?” Asked Briseis.

“Not really. I mean, I’m already doing shit in my actual classes. No harm in doing shit here too.”

“But what about your final grade?” Asked Patroclus. “Won’t your parents be mad?”

“My mom probably will be, but Dad won’t so I don’t really care. He’s more concerned with my track racing and overall welfare. Not to mention it’s not like I ever get to see my mom.”

There was a brief, awkward silence.

“Still,” said Briseis eventually, “studying is important, even if you plan to go into sports. Isn’t biology important for physical theory?”

Achilles stifled a laugh. “I don’t wanna be a physiotherapist. I’ll be fine without it.”

“Phthia,” Dr Chiron spun around. “I can hear you, you know? Patroclus and Briseis as well. I know the three of you know each other but this lesson is for learning, not talking.”

That was enough to get Patroclus to seal his mouth tight. Achilles grimaced at the board and scribbled random marks over what clear space was left of his paper. Not long after, Dr Chiron passed around a worksheet for the class to complete defining the different uses for hydrocarbons. For the next ten minutes or so the class descended into concentrated silence. At that could be heard was the scratching of pens to paper and the occasional flick of textbook pages.

Glancing over at Briseis, Achilles couldn’t help but notice that not only her, but also Patroclus, were both nearly finished. He hadn’t even started, having been extending his random scribbles to the border of the worksheet. The clock was ticking but it was a known fact that the school was open until six and that was likely when the lesson ended. That was another forty-five minutes away.

Chewing the end of his pencil, he leaned over the worksheet and actually read it for once. It was stuff he didn’t even remember doing. What in the world was ‘butane’? And what were all these periodic symbols supposed to mean? Slumping back in his chair, he lifted his head just in time to see Dr Chiron look away. Had he been staring? Daring him to try the task, perhaps?

Briseis leaned over to Patroclus. “What did you get for number five? I can only think of polystyrene and insulation material,” she whispered.

“Binary fluid,” Patroclus responded almost immediately, writing the answer to the final question at the bottom of the sheet.

Achilles, overhearing this conversation, quickly noted down their answers under number five. So that was what pentane was used for! Now then, he just needed answers for the rest. A gentle murmur had started to rise around the class, most having finished the task. There wasn’t much time before Dr Chiron would ask for answers and Achilles, knowing his luck, was bound to be called on at least three times.

“Briseis,” he whispered, earning him a startled look from both Briseis and Patroclus, “I need some serious help here. You willing to give any answers away? Maybe answers to, I don’t know, all of them?”

Patroclus looked over at Achilles’ practically empty answer sheet. He almost wanted to hold his head in his hands at how much that fitted with his perception of Achilles from the memories. Still, he had to push that thought to the back of his mind. The migraine was beginning to linger again. Focussing on the answers, he practically leaned over Briseis, who sat back in her seat and examined her nails, not paying Achilles much attention.

“You’ve covered this, right?” Patroclus asked.

“Probably, but you heard what Sir said. I don’t remember any of it.”

Not a great start. “Okay, so take propane from earlier. It has loads of different uses because it’s pretty easy to get. You can use it in camping as cooking fuel. Loads of brands use it as engine fuel for busses or forklifts and all that sort of stuff. What loads of people forget though is that certain heaters also use it. It’s kinda obscure to know that but it might come up on tests so it’s good to remember.”

Only then did he realise that Achilles hadn’t taken any notes on what he’d said. Achilles hadn’t even written the answers down. In fact, he was just staring at Patroclus. He had his hand rested on his chin and his brow laced in a frown that was hard to read. Even as their eyes met, he didn’t seem at all put off. If this had been a memory, Patroclus would have stared into those eyes for eternity, getting lost in those deep, blue pools and never wanting to look away.

As things were though, he tore himself away and awkwardly coughed to get Achilles’ attention. “You going to write that down?”

Achilles hummed, startled as if broken from a trance. “Oh yeah,” he said, quickly picking up his pen. “...actually, could you repeat it. I wasn’t listening.”

His smile as he said that was almost too much to bear. Why didn’t he remember? It had to be him. He was the clearest thing in the memories. The only clear thing in the memories, and Patroclus swore he would know that face anywhere, even in death if it came to it.


	3. When The Rain Is Too Heavy For One Umbrella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever write an entire chapter only to realise you spelt Patroclus’ name wrong? Coz that’s what I just did!

By the time the lesson was over, not much else had come of Achilles joining the class. As expected, he was forced to answer a couple of questions. Thanks to Patroclus’ light-speed tutoring though, he was able to get the answers right, which came as a massive shock to Dr Chiron.

“Maybe I should have you here every week if it gets you to learn stuff,” he said after Achilles had correctly told him the uses for ethane.

At the end of the class, Achilles lingered once again by the door. He flashed a goodbye smile and wave at Patroclus and Briseis as they passed by, although only Patroclus returned it. Once again, Briseis completely ignored him. After everyone else had left, Dr Chiron finally slid open his draw and took out Achilles’ phone.

“Now then” he said as he handed the phone over, “since you turned up I won’t contact your father this time. I don’t want you using this in my classes again. I understand you prefer the track, that’sdefinitely your strong suit, just remember that science opens doors as well as sports. It’s difficult, yes, but it’s useful.”

Walking back to his locker, Achilles couldn’t help but feel conflicted at the talking to he’d just been given. Even as recently as earlier that day he would have scoffed at the notion of going back to that class but now he couldn’t help but find himself repeating all those strange uses for hydrocarbons in his head. He even remembered they were called hydrocarbons! And alkanes no less!

After collecting his bag from his locker and checking his phone to see that his dad, Peleus, was waiting to pick him up outside, he left through the main entrance with a slight spring in his step. It was almost completely dark now, with thick, black clouds rolling over the dark sky and the atmosphere heavy with oncoming rain. Bright lights illuminated the way to the parking lot, which was located around the side of the school, past the pavilion and across backend of the track. The grass in the track’s centre looked water-logged and muddy. Achilles grimaced. Perhaps training would be cancelled tomorrow as well?

His dad’s car wasn’t difficult to spot: a white Lexus RX 350 with an oddly placed bumper sticker on the driver’s door reading ‘Prince Inside, Make Way’. That had been a running joke in the Phthia family for years, ever since Achilles had placed a similar bumper sticker in the exact same place on Peleus’ BMW at the age of seven. Swerving around the front of the car, he flashed a smile at his dad then opened the passenger seat door and slipped inside.

As Peleus pulled out of the front gate, the first droplets of rain hit the front window. More followed quickly after and soon a real downpour had begun. The wipers moved quickly and efficiently, only for their work to be in vain as sheets of huge raindrops covered the glass.

“Track cancelled?” He asked. “You don’t look like you’ve been out. What did you do after school? You should’ve called me. I could’ve come picked you up.”

Achilles leaned back in his seat and watched the lamp-lit street passing by outside through the coating of rain on his window. “Yeah it was cancelled. Couldn’t call you though. Got stuck in detention with Dr Chiron.” He pulled a disgusted face. However that face quickly switched to one of surprise. He even leaned over to the window. “Dad, Dad! Stop the car.”

“What for?”

“Just stop it,” Achilles already had a hand on the door.

Peleus pulled over in the first free spot on the sidewalk he could see. The sound of rain pelting the roof was even more apparent now. Despite this though, Achilles pulled his jersey up so it looked like he had no head and got out. Ignoring Peleus’ confused calls after him, he hurried a little way back down the street.

He was met with two very shocked faces huddled under a single tiny, black umbrella. The umbrella wasn’t even doing much against the downpour and the two looked like drenched dogs dripping from head to toe. Still, that did nothing to mask the pure surprise they both had upon seeing Achilles standing in front of them.

“Patroclus, Briseis,” Achilles grinned, trying his best to ignore the battering rain soaking into his clothes. “Need a ride home?”

For a moment Patroclus and Briseis just stood star struck but it was ultimately Patrolcus who spoke up first, albeit rather timidly.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said.

The wind spun down the street, sending a chill through Achilles and causing the umbrella to almost turn inside out. Briseis held it steady, although just barely.

“Come on then,” Achilles said urgently, already going back to the car, “just tell me where you need to go and my Dad’ll take you.”

“Sure,” Patroclus was still amazed as he followed. Briseis came after, scowling.

Achilles flopped back into his seat as if nothing had happened and beckoned for the other two to get in the back. “Can we take these guys to their houses, Dad?” He asked as Patroclus climbed in.

Peleus’ face was that of utter confusion. He, however, quickly hid the vague irritation of not getting home straight away behind the typical pearly smile of an American dad. It wasn’t as if he could kick the kids out now that they were in. As Briseis slammed the door shut he turned to look at them, holding out his hand to Patroclus.

“Peleus Phthia,” he said confidently.

Patroclus was about to reach out to shake his hand when he suddenly froze. His eyes darted between Peleus and his hand. After a couple of moments, Achilles let out a sigh.

“They don’t do contact, Dad. Neither of them. I think it’s a Hawking thing.”

“Oh! So you’re from Hawking High?” Peleus sounded bewildered. He shook it off quickly and retracted his hand. “Where to?” He asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Opus Road,” said Patroclus hurriedly.

Peleus had to try really hard to conceal his astonishment. Even Achilles spared a glance at Patroclus through the read-view mirror.

“Alright then,” said Peleus.

He pulled off the sidewalk and started heading back down the street. Opus Road was on the way home, although it wasn’t exactly the place someone driving a Lexus would want to stop. Secretly, Peleus was praying that the rain would let up before arriving there so he could drop both kids off at the end of the road and not have to actually enter the place.

The car journey wasn’t long, about five minutes, and took place mostly in silence. Briseis had her head buried in her phone the entire time, meanwhile Patroclus looked out of the window. Achilles leaned his elbow on the door, resting his chin in his hand, and he would repeatedly spare glances through the mirror at Patroclus.

There was definitely something about him. What was it? Was he familiar? He definitely seemed to be. Déjà vu was a common thing Achilles experienced but this was on a whole other level. In the confines of the car though it seemed too awkward to ask, especially if he was wrong.

He stole another glance through the mirror and his heart leapt. Patroclus had been looking at him. His eyes had a slightly lulled, tired-looking quality to them but their deepness was almost enchanting. However, after only a moment, Patroclus noticed Achilles looking through the mirror and turned away, his cheeks reddening. A heat rose in Achilles’ face too.

The rain didn’t remain a cacophonous downpour forever. By the time the car pulled up to the edge of Opus Road, it had calmed to more of a steady pelting. Peleus was about to ask whether or not he should pull into the road but Briseis unclipped her seatbelt and readied to open the door.

“We’re fine here,” she said stiffly, already getting out.

“Not a problem,” replied Peleus, smiling.

“Thank you, Mr Phthia,” Patroclus said as he hauled his bag out after him. “Thank you, Achilles.” He closed the door before Achilles could reply.

Achilles watched the two of them huddle back under a single umbrella as they trekked down the road. It was dimly lit and had puddles the sizes of large ponds all down it. A few houses could be made out either side but they were small, with peeling paint on the walls and tiny gardens. Peleus pulled away and got back to the main road before Achilles could see the two of them get back safely.

“What was that about?” Peleus asked. “Make some new friends in detention?”

“I guess you could say that,” replied Achilles, still thinking about how Patroclus had been looking at him. “Hey, Dad. Did Patroclus — the guy — did he look familiar at all?”

Peleus thought about it for a moment, chewing his lip as he flipped the blinkers to turn onto the highway. “Now you mention it, he does a bit, doesn’t he? Where would you have seen him before? Not elementary school, if he lives in a place like that. Maybe a summer camp?”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll ask him next week.”

“Next week? You’ll be in training next week.”

“Oh, right.”

The feeling that had accompanied those words was strange. Was it sadness? Longing? Why on earth was that the case? Achilles loved training. Why, then, did he have this odd desire to go back to the Special Offers class? What was it that made him want to return?

The answer was simple, as Achilles concluded in his mind. It was Patroclus.


	4. How Is He Anything But A Monster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! No matter what you celebrate or if you don’t celebrate at all I hope you all enjoy a new chapter. Sort of a darker one this time, at least for Briseis. I’ve been reading Silence of the Girls which really helped with her characterisation. I might even add it to the works list.

Briseis’ room was all too familiar to Patrolcus. Her bed sat against an ocean blue wall, covered in various old toys picked up from yard sales over the years. There was a small writing desk crammed in next to the head of the bed in front of a windowsill, just barely leaving enough space for a small bookshelf. Her closet stood by the door. All of this created just enough space for an old mattress to take up the rest of the floor space.

That was where Patrolcus slept.

He didn’t exactly live with Briseis, only coming over when he didn’t feel like going home. Granted, that was most days at the moment. He even kept all of his school books and files at Briseis’ house at this point and usually ate with her and her brothers. This evening though it was just him and Briseis in the house. The rain pelted the window as they flopped into in the bedroom, Briseis onto her bed and Patroclus onto his mattress.

“What the hell was that?!” Briseis threw her hands up, staring at the ceiling. “He let us in his car! Was he trying to show off or something? What ulterior motives did he have there?”

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to be nice, Bris,” Patroclus replied, rolling onto his side to look at his friend, “he doesn’t need some ulterior motive to help us out. If anything he probably felt bad for us and did it out of pity. Typical rich boy stuff.”

“I still don’t trust him. Even after all this time I still get such a horrible feeling whenever I so much as think about him. It’s like a squirming in my stomach that makes me want to throw up. I get these horrible thoughts. Thoughts about my brothers. They’re all- They’re all...”

“I know, you don’t have to say it,” Patroclus hugged his knees, flashing a concerned frown over to Briseis.

He didn’t know her memories save for what she told him. What she had though made the pain Patroclus felt whenever his migraines came on seem tame. Briseis would talk about bloody murder before her eyes, men dragging her somewhere against her will and being singled out of a large group of girls. She never said why that happened but Patroclus could guess enough. He shared a couple of memories with her when their hands touched but they mostly took place in a small, dark room where he told her she couldn’t cry about her situation. Why would he say that?

“Why don’t you hate me?” He asked.

“We’ve been over this,” said Briseis, “it’s because you were actually kind to me. Gentle. Achilles? He was a monster. How could you ever see him as anything other? That’s what I want to know.”

“My memories are different from yours. I’ve seen him as he was before _that time_. I saw him in that forest. I saw him in a palace. Everything was so hazy except for him and his smile. Whenever I think about the palace I get this uneasiness as if there are people looking at me and hating me. _I_ feel like the monster. Then I see him and the feeling goes away...”

He trailed off when Briseis sat up. Her eyes were glassy and she was chewing her lip, her fingers picking at her bedcovers. Her breathing gradually became uneasy and she clutched a hand to her head.

“Bris?”

“I’m fine.”

She clearly wasn’t.

“I’m sorry. Talking about it was too much.” Patroclus shuffled over to the bed and hauled himself up until he was next to Briseis. He ran a hand down her back reassuringly while she held her own bare hands away from him. Her head shook and she squeezed her eyes shut. A guttural scream bubbled up in her throat, squeezing out from between her tense lips. She threw herself forwards, landing in a heap on the mattress.

“Bris!”

By the time Patroclus had returned to her side she was breathing normally again. A hand held her chest and she was counting under her breath. After a short while she sat up on her knees, her hands coming to rest on her thighs. She blinked and shuddered.

Her lips parted, quivering. “...He killed my brother...” she murmured. “...On the palace steps...right through the neck...”

Upon hearing that, Patroclus stood up and backed away to the door. “I’ll go make dinner,” he said calmly, although he was frowning.

Briseis just nodded and waved him off with one hand while the other wiped tears from her eyes. Heaving a regretful sigh, Patroclus eased the door closed and headed downstairs. He had to keep away from Briseis, at least for now. That memory was a particularly bad one, spurred on usually by her having a bad day or just feeling anxious. This time however Patroclus knew exactly what had spurred it on.

Achilles.

It hurt a lot having to keep away from Briseis at this time. Usually one of her brothers was around to help her through it, to tell her they were all well and everything was fine, but this time none of them would be back until late. The first time this had happened, Briseis had been so afraid to even look at Patroclus that her brothers had presumed the two of them had fallen out. Later on Briseis had revealed that she had seen Patroclus in the memory and it had frightened her. That was one of the reasons why Patroclus hated to accidentally spur on that memory.

That was it. No more talking about Achilles. As Patroclus boiled some water and rummaged through the cupboards for some instant noodles, his mind kept drifting. Achilles. Why was he so obsessed with him? They had just met that day, a moment Patroclus had fantasised about for years, and Achilles hadn’t even recognised him, so what even was the point of being hopeful anymore that they could be together like in the memories?   


* * *

The next day was much brighter than the previous one. Warm sunlight filtered into the pristine hallways of Achea Academy, illuminating the labyrinth of corridors that led to every possible department a school of such caliber could possess. Students congregated at their lockers, chatting away without a care as to what was going on outside their own little worlds.

Still, for Achilles, the face of Patroclus almost refused to leave his mind. He’d been kept up late that night, digging through his memories to try and find where he’d seen that face before. Briseis’ too. He’d even asked Peleus to find some old photo books of summer camps they’d been on to see if there were any other kids in the background that could prompt him. It all amounted to nothing, almost obviously.

What was it about Patroclus? Was it his living situation? Was this purely pity-based? That was unlikely. Achilles didn’t feel quite the same way towards Briseis. To be fair though she didn’t seem to like him very much for whatever reason so he just shrugged her off and allowed Patroclus to fill his thoughts. He was almost concerned with how clearly he remembered Patroclus, from his clothes to his hair to his awkward smile. Usually when he met someone it took him a few meetings to even be bothered to file their faces to memory, but with Patroclus he didn’t even have to think hard to remember how his eyes sparkled when talking about science or the way his cheeks had heated with blush when he he’d been embarrassed at being seen in the mirror.

“Achilles!”

That voice shot through Achilles’ train of thought, grinding his gears so much he almost wanted to scream. He didn’t turn around in the busy school corridor, instead continuing as if he hadn’t heard anything. The musing memories of Patroclus had faded though and not long after a strong, muscular arm slumped over Achilles’ shoulders. He just had to grit his teeth and deal with it.

“Agamemnon, how many times have I told you I’m not joining the football team?” He sighed, adjusting his bag that was slung lazily over one shoulder.

Agamemnon heaved a breathy chuckle. “It’s not about that, man. I’ve given up asking.”

“Oh thank God.”

“No, me and Menelaus are having a party next Saturday. We wanted to keep it kinda lowkey this time if you get me? Not my decision of course but my brother is having issues with Ilium Academy. Paris, I think. So, we’re trying to keep everything on the down low for the time being. You wanna join us?”

“Honestly, Agamemnon, I would rather shoot an arrow through my heel.”

“So you’re in?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Achilles peeled away from Agamemnon’s strong grip and carried on towards his next class, leaving his not-exactly-friend in the middle of the corridor.

“Oh yeah!” Agamemnon called. “Deidamia’s gonna be there. She’s expecting you!”

That only made Achilles roll his eyes and flash a quick wave. That news should have been nothing short of amazing. Any other guy in the school would pay any amount of money to catch the eye of Deidamia. In fact, only a day ago Achilles might have even felt a flutter in his chest at the exciting news.

Why then, did he not feel that way? It was strange but didn’t even seem to bother him that much. It were as if all of a sudden Deidamia’s name had become just another in the crowd, meaningless beyond simple recognition. The little brain capacity Achilles did dedicate to wondering why he wasn’t bothered didn’t heed any answerers but he was already pushing open the door to English and had to switch his mind to dealing more with boredom than figuring out his own psyche.

Chances were he would still go to that party and thoroughly enjoy trashing Agamemnon’s house.


	5. The Best of Men or Best of Cowards?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for no update on Wednesday. I’ve been really ill the past week as well as wrapping up Christmas and New Years celebrations. Hopefully the next chapter will be up normal time but I do have school so it might be a bit late.

The Hawking High bell had sounded and now everyone was in a jostle to get to their busses on time, head to after school volunteering or find their way to band practice. Patroclus eyed the large, yellow school bus parked just outside the gate. Perhaps he should get that today? He hadn’t seen Briseis all day, having slept on the couch rather than in her room and having left her house before she’d woken up. He hadn’t even seen her at school so she’d probably stayed home.

He thought to text her but as he was about to open up his messages he stopped. The memory of her brother was one of the worse ones. Patroclus had never seen it - he didn’t share it with Briseis as a memory, but she’d described it to him. Only once but that had been more than enough. She was standing on top of the citadel in a city. She didn’t know which. Down below there was a battle led by Achilles. He was apparently like some sort of animal, digging his spear ferociously into his enemies until blood coated his armour and even then he didn’t stop attacking. Briseis’ youngest brother had been there. He was younger than Briseis by a couple of years but already volunteered at the local animal shelter; a kind, sensitive boy that Patrolcus had played video games with before.

Achilles hadn’t cared for that. He’d stabbed his spear right into her brother’s neck and watched him writhe around in pain, gazing without a care in the world the life had slowly drained from the body in front of him. It was something Patroclus didn’t want to believe was true. His memories of Achilles were so soft and gentle. Achilles’ fingers dancing over a lyre. The two of them in some woods, running and playing, sometimes splashing in a lake, laughing all the while. Them both walking side by side along a beach, the sun warm on their skin and brightening their smiles as they looked at each other. Nothing like the bloodbath Briseis described.

Still, her memories weren’t less valid just because Patroclus hadn’t seen them. In moments like these he couldn’t simply ignore them. He hated the gritty, disturbed feeling he got in his gut in these times whenever his thoughts drifted to Achilles. In these moments Achilles wasn’t a person. He was a monster.

Rather than text Briseis, Patroclus instead decided he would wait for her to approach him. It usually only took a day or so for her to recover and she would always apologise for staying away, something Patroclus always responded to by assuring her he wasn’t offended and he would act the same if he were in her position.

Leaving her alone, however, would mean one thing. He would have to go home.

In the end he thought against getting the school bus. Any time he could drag out before going back to his house was time well spent in his eyes. It wasn’t as if his mother would be there to greet him with open arms and his father was probably just going to tell him how much of a burden he was. There probably wasn’t much food at home either. He checked his pockets. He had a few loose coins, hopefully enough to buy some instant ramen.

He wandered out of the school and down the sidewalk. The rain the previous night had torn a lot of leaves off the trees which now lay in damp heaps, already having been kicked up by children and dogs out on walks. The air was still thick with the smell of after-rain even though it was rather sunny. The wind was getting colder too.

A difference between walking as opposed to the bus was that Patrolcus had a very good view of Achea Academy. The place was about a five minute walk from Hawking, just across the road. The tall railing that cut off the school from the outside world didn’t seem to be trying very hard to conceal the excellence the school seemed to ooze. Anyone who walked past could clearly see all of the sports teams busy training, their gear and kit all personalised with the school’s emblem. Patroclus scooted across the road, trying to look casual but really he just wanted a quick glance inside that other world he only stepped into for a couple of hours every week.

How many times he would look at the school and imagine himself walking down that main entrance, past the founders’ statues and up those steps, not as a visitor but as a real student. Pipe dreams were basically his lifeblood at this point. His pipe dream of going to medical school. His pipe dream of figuring out why he had these strange memories. The pipe dream that Achilles knew who he was.

The pipe dream that Achilles knew who he was.

There was that feeling again. A feeling of complete and utter conflict. His raw, subconscious emotions were that of adoration and longing. The emotions of intellect however crept in and strangled the fluttery feeling in Patroclus’ chest, replacing it with a lead-like grip, hissing that having such feelings for Achilles was disgusting.

“The memories might not be real,” Patroclus muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on his bag straps. “I call them memories but they might not be real. I’ve never been to a battlefield. I’ve never been to the beach. I’ve never been up a mountain. I was born here in Achea County and I’ve lived on Opus road for five years.”

His mind was beginning to spin. Another migraine. Dammit. Why now? Why now of all times did a memory have to show itself? His steps faltered and he clutched his head with one hand, his shoulder bumping against the railing. Taking a deep breath, he tried to right his posture but another wave of pain spiked through him. He could hear something. An old man’s voice. There was a thick smell of blood and sweat and the air around him suddenly felt clammy and warm.

“ _Achilles is killing us all! How many more have to suffer?_ ”

“I don’t know.” Patroclus’ mouth opened as if compelled by some divine force. “I’ll talk to him again.”

He looked up and for a split second he thought he saw not a sidewalk on an open street but a closed off hut. There were two people in front of him, one performing surgery on the other with no tools Patroclus had ever seen in modern practice. Everything looked so primitive. This was nothing he’d ever seen before in his memories.

“ _The Best of Men is just the Best of Cowards,_ ” said the patient between gritted teeth.

“I will try my best to compel Achilles to rejoin the fight,” said Patroclus, “for everyone’s sake.”

He couldn’t hear what was said next. The words all blended together. The next thing he knew, he was back on the sidewalk having fallen to his knees. Sucking in breath after breath, he scrunched up his face and stared at the ground. His hands pressed into the tarmac, stinging pains pinching his palms like pins and needles on the uneven surface. It was cold again. At least there was that. The place he’d just seen had been so hot. 

“Patroclus!”

That familiar voice spiked through Patroclus’ mind. At first it made his head reel but after a few moments he had it in him to look up. A little way away was Dr Chiron. A black Mercedes was parked messily on the side of the road where he was rushing over from. The look of pure worry on his face was enough to make Patroclus attempt to stand on his own. His legs were a little weak and Dr Chiron caught him as he almost fell again.

“Whatever happened to you?” Dr Chiron asked, helping Patroclus stand.

Patroclus put a hand on the railing, clutching it tight. His breaths were still uneasy but less sporadic than before. He looked up at Dr Chiron through his mop of hair. “Migraine,” he said, his voice laboured and tired.

“These are really bad for you, aren’t they? Don’t you have medication? Perhaps you need to get a doctor involved?”

Patroclus tensed. “Dad can’t afford a doctor right now,” he admitted, “and regular medication doesn’t seem to have an effect anyway.”

Dr Chiron put a hand in his pocket and shifted his posture. “You sure you can get home on your own? I can have you wait in the reception here and can call your Dad if you want?”

Right now anything would be better than staying around here. If he saw Achilles he might get another memory. Failing that, this place was bound to be crawling with people who wouldn’t want him there ‘infringing on their territory’.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiled, though it felt incredibly forced.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

If only that had been true. Dr Chiron was about to turn to leave but just as he did, a flash of blond caught in the corner of Patroclus’ eye. Subconsciously he turned to see what it was. It was athletics practice on the nearest field where a racing track had been specially built. There were several groups of students doing various things from hurdles to high jump to running.

And across the track a little way beyond the railing was Achilles.


	6. Separated But Never Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren’t awkward interactions just the best? /s

The track was the only place Achilles felt truly free. He tightened his laces, pulled back his hair into ponytail and prepared with some warmups. The way the wind whisked past his clothes and skin felt like he was flying, his feet almost seeming to never touch the ground with every step. A quick run to the end of the final straight and back was enough of a cardio warmup before he started on his stretches.

That was when he heard Dr Chiron’s voice. At least, it sounded like Dr Chiron, which was strange because he always left with the bell on Wednesdays. It wasn’t the voice itself that shocked him though. In fact it was very quiet. No, it was what the voice had said.

“Patroclus!”

His head spun around. It took a few moments but far across the track where the field met the main gate he eventually caught sight of two figures. One was very clearly Dr Chiron, with his signature beard that was slightly too long for him and blue button-up. Glancing upon the other figure on his knees breathing heavily, a tenseness spiked through Achilles’ body. His feet moved on their own.

He cleared the track in seconds, his heart pounding and adrenaline spiking through his veins. What was he doing? He couldn’t even tell. Just before clearing the asphalt he forced himself to stop. Would it be strange to approach Patroclus now? Why did he even care so much? They’d known each other for the best part of two hours. Nothing more. Besides, Patroclus seemed fine now. Dr Chiron had helped him to his feet.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Asked Dr Chiron, his voice laced with worry.

“Yes, Sir,” replied Patroclus.

There was another flutter of anxiety in Achilles’ chest. He took another step towards the railing but halted himself at the last second.

That had been enough for Patroclus to turn and look directly at him.

A wave of stiff awkwardness suddenly washed over Achilles, drowning out the anxiety from before. A small voice in the back of his head was so confused. He hadn’t felt like this only a day ago. Had his thoughts of Patroclus since just built up until this by-chance instance of seeing him again? It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like Patroclus was some far away entity. The guy went to school just down the road.

Realising Patroclus was staring at him, frozen, Achilles decided to break the silence and come up to the railing. The sound of Dr Chiron’s car pulling off the sidewalk was reduced to mere background noise. The tall vertical bars of the railing separated the two boys but Achilles still looked over Patroclus in detail. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before except now his knees were scuffed with dirt from the muddy sidewalk. 

“Good to see you again,” Achilles smiled, trying to relax his shoulders and appear chipper, as if he’d been running and had just then happened to catch sight of Patroclus.

Patroclus looked like a rabbit that had just noticed the fox that had been stalking it for the past hour. His eyes were wide, looking at every small mannerism Achilles made. Every intake of breath, every wrinkle of his clothing as he altered his stance, every time his eyes looked away for a moment.

Achilles stood as casually as he could, although his arms didn’t know whether to grab a rails or simply stay at his sides. “You alright?” He asked.

“Did you just see that?” Asked Patroclus, fidgeting with his bag straps.

“Just Sir helping you up. Did something happen?”

Patroclus looked away for a moment. His lips were sealed in a tight line. Then, his eyes suddenly squeezed shut and a hand flew to his forehead. He let out a strained groan, clenching his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Achilles got as close up to the railing as he could. His hands clutched it nervously and his brow laced into a concerned frown. His eyes darted over Patroclus, trying to find what was wrong.

“It’s just a migraine,” Patroclus hissed through a deep breath. Still he leaned against the railing and put his hand on it to steady himself.

Achilles didn’t even know what he was feeling in that moment. This was practically a stranger in front of him yet there was something deep inside him forcing his gut to flip with anxiety looking at him now. It wasn’t the type of anxiety one got when they watched a near-death experience in a documentary. It wasn’t even the type of anxiety one got when they saw their friend about to do something stupid. No, this felt very different. Almost frightening.

“I’m right here,” he said almost from impulse. He clamped his mouth shut. What was he doing? He needed to get help, not stay standing there like an idiot. “You need help. I promise to be back in a minute so stay right there-“

“No!”

Achilles had already stepped back but that made him halt. “You need the school nurse.”

“Just keep talking.”

“Why?”

Patroclus was staring at the floor. “Grounding.”

“What should I say?” Achilles asked, panic beginning to surge in him.

“Anything.”

Achilles’ eyes darted around as he searched frantically for something to talk about. “Are you absolutely sure I can leave you like this? The nurse is shit but she can at least call your parents to pick you up. Damnit why did Sir have to leave so quickly? What about that girl - Briseis? Where is she? She’s your friend, right?”

“Too many questions.”

“Right, sorry. I’m not good at this, okay? I’ve never been good at the whole comfort thing.”

“I know.”

Achilles was about to keep running his mouth randomly when he stopped. “What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

Patroclus seemed to be steadying himself now. His hand slipped off the railing and he stood up, his back slouched to hold the weight of his backpack. For a few moments he was silent, then he pinched his sleeve between his fingers and palm and wiped it across his face. Smudged tear tracts covered his cheeks and his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“Seriously, you look I’m pretty bad shape,” said Achilles. “If you’re crying from it then it must be really painful.”

“No. I promise I’m fine. It happens a lot.”

“How often?”

Patroclus thought about it for a moment. “At least once a day right now. Sometimes it varies, I guess, but the longest I’ve gone without one since they started was a week.”

All Achilles could do was stare. He had literally no clue about anything to do with medicine. The closest thing he could think to what was causing Patroclus’ pain was some kind of mysterious brain tumour he’d seen on an episode of Mystery Diagnosis in Middle School. That, however, was a one in a million condition.

Patroclus was now looking at Achilles, his breaths more level than a few moments ago. “It’s normal for me, I swear,” he said.

“You mentioned. I’m just worried is all.”

He took in a sharp breath through his nose and held it as soon as he realised what he’d said. His heart thumped in his ears and he swore there was some heat rising in his cheeks. He thought he must look like a complete creep. As he spared an awkward glance at Patroclus he saw that Patroclus had a very similar, of not the same expression. His eyes were wide, he was completely frozen stiff and his dark cheeks were tinted with blush.

What he said though was what really made Achilles confused.

“Thank you,” Patroclus smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, far from it, but his lips curled slightly and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a moment of genuine gratitude.

After that there was nothing but silence. The wind shook the bushes, the birds chirruped in the trees lining the main road and suddenly the sound of cars passing by as all the more apparent.

“Phthia!” A voice suddenly yelled from across the field. “No slacking off! You can talk to your friends later!”

The atmosphere was broken. Suddenly realisation filled the both of them. Achilles turned back and called to say he was coming over, his voice controlled and cheerful to mask his embarrassment. Meanwhile Patroclus fumbled to get his phone out as he usually did in these situations.

“See you,” Achilles waved, already turning to run back to the rest of his training.

* * *

Patroclus didn’t even get a chance to respond but he just stood there, his phone loose in his hands. “See you,” he said under his breath, almost bewildered.

That memory he’d just seen. It had still been in the scary place that made him feel nauseous whenever he thought about it. Achilles had been there, his expression cold. Thanks to the admittedly bare-bones grounding Patroclus hadn’t heard anything that had been said but he’d had an urge to say some things. He’d wanted to yell about people dying and how it was because of Achilles. He’d wanted to ask Achilles to fight in some war. Within seconds though the memory had faded back to reality, gone as if it had never even happened.

He checked his messages to clear his mind of the memory. There was only one from Briseis. Opening it up he could feel his anxiety about meeting Achilles draining away and as his eyes scanned the words he could only be relieved.

**Are you coming back tonight? We’re having takeout and wanna watch some TV. We can order your favourite. Also, I need the notes from class.**

Briseis was alright. That was good. Plus, now Patroclus didn’t have to go home.


	7. Childhood Memories Can Be Hard To Recall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually getting somewhere with plot guys!

That evening, Achilles slung his bag off and flopped down onto his bed, spreading his arms wide. He stared at the ceiling. His bedroom was in the attic so it slanted upwards, a skylight sitting above his writing desk. It was a fairly spacious room, even if Achilles had wanted the guest room downstairs renovated for him because it was bigger. As things were this place would suffice; the walls were washed in a turquoise-blue colour and the floorboards were oak wood with Mediterranean rugs flung over them - a style he enjoyed. He also had a patterned wall-hanging above the head of the bed. The writing desk sat opposite the door, crammed with textbooks he’d been bought but would never use, and to the desk’s right was a bookshelf piled up with toy soldiers, a few old picture books about the ancient Greeks and some board games. Next to his bed was his closet, which didn’t have _that_ many clothes in it. Just some dress shirts, about five sets of running gear, enough jogging pants (that had matching jackets) to last him two weeks and three suits for Athletics Society dinners that Peleus forced him to wear. Then, there was a chest of draws by the door for his school clothes and anything else he wanted to wear. All his various pairs of shoes were strewn about in the cloakroom downstairs.

Rolling onto his side, Achilles eyed his old bookshelf. For some reason, those picture books he hadn’t touched in years were calling to him. It was just a little voice, most likely that of nostalgia, thanking him for not throwing the books out whenever Achea Academy did their annual charity collection. What was odd was that a thought accompanied Achilles whenever he looked at the faded spines of those books.

Patroclus.

He pushed off the bed. Pulling out the spines that most caught his eye, he shoved the piles of unopened textbooks off his desk and sat down in his spinning office hair. The textbooks fell to the floor with a clatter, warranting a concerned call from Peleus downstairs.

“Nothing broke!” Achilles shouted back.

He then flicked through to the first contents page. It wasn’t a long book - it _was_ meant for children, but there were several sections to it. The gods had their own pages, although only the most important ones were listed. Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Hades...it all reminded Achilles of how he’d used to say he’d wanted to live in Ancient Greece when he’d been in middle school. That phase had thankfully passed. Now he just looked upon the pages taken up mostly by intricate watercolour pictures with both nostalgia and a hint of cringe. A few of the key myths were also detailed. There was the Minotaur of course, then the love of Eros and Psyche, Jason, Prometheus and of course Heracles.

What did any of this have to do with Patroclus though? The two had met in a science class not a history lesson or, god forbid, a classics lecture. Flipping through the pages, not bothering to read anything, Achilles pondered for a moment then let the pages fall flat. The double-spread was very late in the book and had a picture taking up the entire right-hand side. It depicted some sort of battle, although it wasn’t clear what exactly was going on. There were lots of soldiers wearing gleaming bronze armour, brandishing spears and raising round shields. At the front was one figure wearing better armour than everyone else, his blond hair flowing in the wind as he held a sword towards the walls of a giant city. There was also a large title in bold font.

**Lesser Known Myths**

The feeling Patroclus seemed to bring Achilles was beginning to fade. Perhaps it had just been because of all the overthinking? Leaning back in his chair, Achilles scanned the first few lines of the page in front of him.

_Sometimes myths were not completely written down. Sometimes we only know about them through a few sparse sources. Here are some myths that we only know small pieces of thanks to rare pottery fragments, mentions by famous philosophers or brief appearances of characters in other works._

The first myth was titled ‘The Ten Year Battle’. That caught Achilles’ attention for some reason. Usually by now he would have put the book away and pulled out his laptop to browse YouTube but for some reason the feeling Patroclus gave him had sparked inside him for a moment. All from reading a few words on a page. Leaning his chin in his hand and propping his elbow on the desk, he began to read in earnest for the first time in what felt like forever.

_This myth was only ever passed down through speech. No one thought to write it down, therefore we only know of it thanks to mentions in works by Plato, Socrates and Aristotle as well as fragments from a couple of lost plays by Aeschylus and Euripides. The myth detailed a war that took place between the Greeks and an unknown enemy that lasted for ten years. The Best of Men, whose name has been lost to time, was said to have fallen into a rage due to the death of his lover and slaughtered hundreds of soldiers before finally dying by receiving an arrow to the heel._

“Who would die like that?” Achilles muttered to himself, although he felt strangely attached to this ‘Best of Men’ from simply reading a paragraph.

_The myth ends with Odysseus, a smart general in the army, building a large wooden horse and sneaking soldiers into the city with it._

“Odysseus?!”

Achilles could only think of the guy from school who seemed too perfect at everything to be real. Seriously, that guy was insane. He had perfect grades, was on the football team, could hold his alcohol like a champion and even somehow took part in the school play every year. Was this the origin of his name? Achilles made a mental note to ask him at some point.

“Whatcha reading there?” Asked a voice over a Achilles’ shoulder.

Achilles turned abruptly to see Peleus standing in the doorway. Peleus fixed his glasses and wandered in to look over his son’s shoulder.

“Just an old book,” said Achilles.

“Yes, I remember this one,” Peleus chuckled, standing with his hands in his pockets. “Did you know this page used to give you nightmares?”

“What?”

“Oh yes, when you were about ten or eleven. You used to wake up crying and everything. It was a devil cleaning up your face when you had snot and saliva dribbling down it.”

“Too much info, Dad,” Achilles crinkled his nose. He looked at the page again. He did remember having looked at it before but the nightmares he didn’t remember at all. “Are you sure it was this?”

“Definitely. Luckily they seemed the type of nightmare you forgot by morning. You usually fell asleep again pretty quickly after having them but in those moments when you were awake you used to say some really strange things.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s see...you’re trying my own memory here, honestly. You said... aha! Once you were asking me where ‘he’ was. That only lasted a few seconds before you stopped. When I asked who ‘he’ was supposed to be you had forgotten you’d even said it. Then once you mistook me for ‘Paris’ and hid under the covers. I presumed you were in Paris during the nightmare. Unless you were talking about the Romeo and Juliet character, of course. It was very strange. Then...oh, right. There was what you said the first night you had the nightmare. I ran in to see you standing over there,” he pointed to the middle of the room, “you were looking around like you didn’t know where you were. When I turned on the light you seemed so scared. I scooped you up put you back to bed. When I put you down you told me you wanted to ‘forget everything’. I presumed you meant the nightmare and so told you it was fine to forget, if anything just to give you a better night’s sleep. Luckily for me you didn’t wake up for the rest of the night but the next evening after you read this book you were really jittery and, almost expectedly, you had another nightmare. This kept up for a while and I considered taking you to a doctor about it but after about a month the nightmares stopped so I assumed whatever had been troubling you had gone away.”

Achilles sat somewhat dumbfounded, his eyes trailing to the part of the room Peleus had pointed at, then to his bed and then the book. “Wow, I don’t remember any of that,” he said. “I was such a wimp.”

“Not a wimp. Just a kid.”

Achilles shrugged. His eyes glossed over the page once more then he sighed and closed the book. Whatever his dad had been talking about he didn’t remember it. Sure, it sounded strange but what would the point be of worrying about something that was in the past?.”What’s for dinner?” He asked nonchalantly, wheeling his chair over to put the books back on the shelf to gather dust for what he thought would be the next few years.

“I was thinking of making some Thai stir fry. Do you want extra chicken in yours?”

“Sure, and extra bell pepper.”

* * *

Achilles couldn’t breathe without tasting smoke. Smoke and sweat. It was hot. So, so hot. He was wearing bronze armour and his hair flowed in the wind, a crested helmet under his shoulder as he prepared to mount his chariot. There were men all around cheering for him. Some had bandages wrapped around their limbs and torsos. Some were only held up by others or else they would be unable to stand. Others were healthy and stood to attention, their spears gleaming in what little sunlight penetrated the thin cloud cover above.

He stepped up to his chariot. It all felt so natural. Without even thinking he lifted the helmet onto his head. He then turned to grab a spear. He didn’t pay much attention to who was giving it to him, only that he took the weapon that was the most impressive in both appearance and practicality.

“Best of Men! Best of Men!” The crowd hollered.

Over the cheers a single voice stood out. It was close and mild. Gentle.

“Come back safe, Best of Men.”

Then a sharp pain split his head and the next thing he knew he was sitting bolt upright in bed. It was the middle of the night. Only his heavy breathing coupled with the creaks of the house were to be heard. 

He lifted a hand to his face. It was trembling. The headache was gone, thankfully. That had just been the nightmare. The voice however was something far more familiar. Something that lingered in his mind and had done so for the entire day.

It had been the voice of Patrolcus.


	8. The Father Who Found Their Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally thought to add my boy Odysseus into this story for real. He’s an all-round role model student I’ve decided. After all he was “resourceful” and “cunning” (Homer’s words not mine) In the Odyssey. He also loved to get into more than a little bit of trouble so I made him a social butterfly. Btw he drinks with his family because they lived for quite a long time in Europe and don’t care for American drinking laws.

With all the extra-curriculars Odysseus did one would have thought that locating him in a school the size of Achea Academy would have been near impossible. To someone like Achilles though it was no harder than running the one hundred meter sprint. When class had ended he texted his dad to say he was staying in school for a little longer than usual after track. That prompted a rather confused but ultimately encouraging response from Peleus, who presumed he was actually studying for once. Well, technically Achilles _was_ going to the library, just not to revise quadratic sequences.

Achea Academy didn’t have a library one would call massive. By the standards of other private academies it was in fact rather small, containing only two main rooms, one for silent study and the other for more casual reading, divided by a computer room in the middle. The easiest route in from the PE department was to go to the silent library.

Pushing open the door, Achilles was instantly hit with the smell of old books. The room was long and tall with a balcony overlooking the far end, below which was the door to the computer room. Bubble-shaped lights hung from the rafters, illuminating the place with a soft white light. Rows upon rows of bookshelves lined one wall while the other had several tables and chairs set up for students by a series of large windows that overlooked one of the school’s many courtyards. At this time of day, as well as this time of year, there weren’t many students left on the premises. A couple were busy doing homework on the far table while a few more were perusing through the various bookshelves sectioned off into different subjects. Walking past, Achilles’ eyes scanned over the brass plaques nailed into each shelf:

Psychology, mathematics, biology, chemistry, philosophy and so on...

Nothing interested Achilles, especially not right now. He glanced up at the balcony and his mind eased slightly. Sitting at the table closest to the railing was Odysseus. From here it was clear he had his earphones in and was busy scribbling notes into one of his many books. On the table around him were scattered a ring binder, his coat and his sports bag.

In the silence it was difficult for Achilles to get up the staircase on the right-hand side of the balcony without making every step creak, sending an all-too-loud noise through the room. He passed the sign that said “juniors and seniors only”, climbing the steps carefully. As he reached the top he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

Odysseus had clearly just come from football practice. His hair was still damp from the showers, not much different front Achilles’, and his blue jersey seemed to have been thrown back on hastily. He kept glancing over his notes, then to a textbook Achilles recognised as the one from Dr Chiron’s class.

Slowly but casually Achilles approached the table. Luckily for him Odysseus caught sight of him before he had to do anything awkward to get his attention. The face Odysseus made upon seeing him was one of utter confusion. His brow contorted and he visibly leaned back in his seat. A small smile curled onto his lips.

“No, I’m not here to work,” Achilles whispered, grimacing as he took another look at Odysseus’ notes. “I need to ask you something.”

Odysseus rolled his eyes upon hearing what was quite frankly an obvious truth. Nevertheless he stopped his music and rolled up his earphones, slipping them into his pocket. “Other library,” he pointed downwards.

“Sure,” Achilles agreed.

The two went down to the computer room, passing the librarian as they headed for the door on the other side. She gave them a swift reminder that the library closed at seven. The casual library was completely empty. The bookshelves here wrapped around the sides of the room, leaving the center free for a few tables as well as a reading circle of lilac couches. Achilles would be lying to say he came here often. In fact, he hadn’t stepped into the place since his freshman year. Still, the plaques pointing to the various genres of fiction as opposed to school subjects were rather refreshing, not to mention creating a lot less stressful of an environment.

“So,” Odysseus said as he crashed down on one of the couches, “what do you need? Help with homework? Advice on pulling Deidamia? The answers to tomorrow’s test?”

“Firstly, no,” Achilles said, sitting down opposite him, “you know I don’t give a crap about homework. Second, why does everyone think I like Deidamia? She’s pretty and all but not my type. Thirdly, how the hell do you know that?”

“Ah ah ah, a genius never reveals his secrets,” Odysseus tapped the side of his nose and chuckled. “Then what is it? Fire away. Bear in mind though I’m on a tight schedule. Can’t come here tomorrow because of rehearsal.”

“Of course you’re in the school play again. I’ll be quick then. Do you know why you’re called Odysseus by any chance?”

Achilles had half been expecting (and hoping) that Odysseus’ face would freeze in a moment of uncertainty; that for once he knew something Odysseus didn’t. The myth was apparently really obscure and the name certainly wasn’t common. To be fair, neither of their names were. In fact a lot of people Achilles knew had odd names, thinking about it.

Unfortunately Odysseus’ eyes didn’t lose the glints of knowledge they always had. In fact, they only brightened. “Well, my friend,” he leaned back, a smug grin on his face, “I’m named after one of the most cunning heroes in Greek mythology.”

“What?” Achilles frowned. “I thought the myth containing Odysseus was supposed to be really obscure and fragmented. No one wrote down the original thing, right? They don’t know much about him. Not to put you down or anything but how do you know he was the most cunning?”

“Did you only read a children’s book? Odysseus’ character appears multiple times throughout Ancient Greek history. He’s referenced in plays, political speeches and even on one of the best-preserved pots known to us. Why wouldn’t my Dad name me after him?”

“Oh, right,” Achilles wanted to beat himself over the head for forgetting, “he’s a classicist, isn’t he?”

“Not just any classicist, Achilles,” said Odysseus, “he’s the one that first translated the writing on the ‘Odyssey Krater’ - a large mixing bowl for wine at parties. It was ages ago, back in the eighties, but he was able to discover that after the Ten-Year Battle Odysseus didn’t go home for another ten years because he was lost at sea.”

“Wow, seriously?” said Achilles. “That’s insane. The book I read didn’t talk about that at all. You’re not making this all up to sound smart, are you?”

“Of course not! Why would I lie?”

“You’ve lied to Agamemnon many many times.”

“That doesn’t count. Anyway, I’m surprised you don’t know about the Odyssey Krater, given your name and all. I just presumed you did.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, the Krater has pictures on it, right? It’s showing Odysseus in the underworld on one of his adventures while trying to get home. He’s talking to two people while there are other spirits lingering around him. One of them had your name written above his head.”

“My name?” That sounded ridiculous. Achilles scoured his memory for mentions of his name coming from this ‘krater’ thing. His mind only drew a blank.

“Yeah. Dad thinks Odysseus is speaking to some of the comrades he lost during the battle,” now Odysseus seemed to be talking just for the sake of talking. Usually Achilles would have tried to get out of that situation but for once his interest was peaked. “I think,” said Odysseus, “your parents might have just flicked through a book of rare baby names, considering you don’t know the meaning behind it. Now you do though, so there’s a nice bit of info for your Dad. You can also tell him that anyone called Ajax or Patroclus also has the Odyssey Krater to thank for their names- as well as my Dad, of course.”

“Wait wait,” Achilles swore he’d heard wrong. “Did you just say ‘Patroclus’?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I know a Patroclus!” Achilles leaned forwards, his heart racing with excitement. “He goes to Hawking State just down the road.”

“Oh wow,” Odysseus’ eyebrows rose in a moment of what Achilles could only describe as genuine surprise. For once in his life he’d one-upped Odysseus on facts. “That’s a coincidence if I ever heard one,” Odysseus said. “And we have two Ajax’s in our year.“

“And I heard Deidamia is named after a lesser-known Greek princess somewhere,” added Achilles. “I think she as boasting it at lunch last year?”

“Obviously Agamemnon and Menelaus are named after those characters from the famous play,” said Odysseus.

“And isn’t Helen like some kind of Greek name too?”

“Only Helen of Sparta! The most beautiful woman in the world. Who married Menelaus. You see why I made so many jokes about her and Menelaus getting together?”

“Oh, that’s what those posts were on your story,” Achilles admitted he hadn’t gotten the references at all.

“This is a very strange coincidence. Penelope also has a Greek name. So does Nestor. Was it just a naming trend for upper-middle class families in the late-nineties?”

“Patroclus isn’t upper-middle class,” said Achilles.

“Fair point. How do you know him, anyway?”

“Met in detention. He’s in the Hawking Lot.”

Before the conversation could continue any further, Odysseus’ phone buzzed in his pocket. It shocked him a little and he pulled it out quickly. His eyes glossed the screen. Slowly a hint of blush began to spread across his cheeks and his smile became warm and soft rather than excited at a possible fun little naming conspiracy.

Achilles instantly knew who had messaged him. “Penelope?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

Odysseus’ voice was now calmer and warmer. This was what girlfriends did to people. Menelaus had also eased up a lot after getting with Helen. It was only Agamemnon and Clytemnestra who were always arguing.

“Gotta go, sorry,” said Odysseus. “Penelope’s waiting outside reception. She needs help carrying her art to her car.”

“Sure sure,” said Achilles as they both stood up to head back to the silent library. “Sorry for disturbing you, man.”

“It’s fine,” said Odysseus. “At least I got to rant about classics for a bit. Penelope can’t stand it and trust me she stands a lot of bullshit. And hey, I educated you on your name. May you find your beloved Patroclus from Hawking High and enlighten him too.”

“Uh, I never said anything about him being my ‘beloved’,” Achilles scrunched his nose, yet his heart did flutter at the notion for some reason.

“Oh, right. Sorry. That’s just what my Dad translated from the Krater. ‘Swift-footed Achilles and his beloved Patroclus’. It was very poetic but I get it if it makes you uncomfortable to hear that. You go find your _friend_ Patroclus and enlighten him too. Anyway, see you tomorrow. I hear Dr Chiron is setting a pop quiz on alkanes. Good luck with that.”

With that he swung open the door to the silent library, leaving Achilles looking rather confused and more than a little flustered. He could feel a thrumming in his chest and his cheeks were heating. Suddenly the image of Patroclus in his head was rather different. For the first time since meeting him he was emphasising all of the features he liked about Patroclus. His curly, dark hair. The way the corner of his mouth quivered slightly when he was smiling awkwardly. The way his fingers fidgeted and he would look away.

But that couldn’t be real, right? Attraction was definitely a thing. Achilles admitted he’d checked out both girls and guys on several occasions. Still, it felt a little silly to be so enamoured with Patroclus of all people. They were from completely different worlds.


	9. The Chance for a New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! It’s been almost a year since I impulse-wrote chapter one! I decided to finally pick this story up again since I reread TSOA! As the tags say though, I did impulse-write this so my updates aren’t exactly regular. I have got a lot of ideas for the story though, so who knows? Perhaps I’ll write a lot more chapters soon?

It was Tuesday. Almost the final bell. Achilles sat in math with his empty notebook propped up to hide his phone. Luckily, the teacher had been facing the whiteboard since the start of the lesson.

This was the first time he was using his phone all afternoon — an absolute miracle, really. Taking it out during biology hadn’t even crossed his mind. He chewed his upper lip, scrolling through his recents. His heel bounced up and down as his eyes flicked between Agamemnon’s ugly mug, Penelope’s latest snaps and the digital clock at the top of his screen. There were only three minutes left.

Glancing out of the window, the low sun was in full glare through the bronze trees that circled the academy. The training fields were clear of fallen leaves too; the grounds-keepers were always sure to keep the place looking perfect. There was no way track was cancelled.

On the one hand, he was supposed to go to track. On the other hand, the Hawking Lot were coming over this evening. He might be able to catch Patroclus on the way in or even, and God strike him dead for even considering this, he could sit in with Patroclus like last week. They might actually be able to have a normal conversation that way. At the very least, Achilles would be able to see the guy who hadn’t left his mind all week.

It had taken a week to figure out, but it was finally sinking in that, yes, Achilles had a crush. He’d had them before but never quite this strong and, for some reason, separation by circumstance hadn’t done anything to make the initial attraction subside. If anything, it had grown. However, it hadn’t gotten as bad as dreaming about Patroclus constantly. That, Achilles was certain, had just been a one-time thing. Dreams were supposed to be the brain sorting out the day’s events, right? Achilles hadn’t dreamt about Patroclus since Wednesday.

That being said, the mere thought of Patroclus’ face contorted with pain, clinging to the bars of the academy, was a mental image that kept worming its way into his head. Patroclus’ face shouldn’t have been like that. He should’ve been smiling bashfully and blushing like in the car on Tuesday. Hopefully he’d recovered. Oh god Achilles hoped Patroclus had recovered.

He grimaced. These thoughts were uncalled for. The two barely knew one another, for God’s sake. They’d met twice, three if he included the car-ride home as separate, and most likely Patroclus wasn’t thinking the same way about him. The guy had other priorities.

Then, there was the fact that biology was still boring as hell. Dr Chiron drove him up the wall with all the ‘you should know this’ and ‘you need to learn that’ talk. On top of that there was his coach, who would no doubt have a fit if he turned up to track so much as two minutes late. The earful he’d gotten last week because of detention had been a nightmare. There was also Briseis. It was clear she didn’t like him even from just their brief interactions. Perhaps skirting the labs and going to track as planned was for the best after all.

The final bell blared. Packing everything away as quickly as he could, he slipped out of the classroom before anyone else had the chance. Going to track was more logical. It kept his schedule intact and he could clear his head. The nip of the fall air on his cheeks and shoulders would be a welcome distraction.

Around him, the corridor gradually filled with streams of students pouring out of their classes. The sound of general chatter echoed down the halls.

He stopped.

The surrounding noise was strange. Different.

He blinked and took a deep breath.

The noise rose.

It filled his ears, snaking into his head and latching onto the deepest depths of his memory. A mild twang of pain gripped his temples and he held down a pained groan.

Something was visualising in his mind. It had no form, no colour or anything besides the residues of emotions but these emotions were harsh. There was anger, no, rage. There was disdain and anguish. For a split second, the walls of the corridor tore away.

The surrounding chatter was no longer from students. It was from hordes of grown men. Familiar men. Unfamiliar men. Young men. Older men. He couldn’t see them. He just knew they were there.

“Achilles?”

His breath caught in his throat. That was Patroclus’ voice.

The rage subsided. Patroclus was right here. Achilles was safe. He was happy. As long as he was with Patroclus, everything would work out—

“Achilles?”

Reality snapped back.

He was in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by students heading for their lockers and club rooms. Any visions or sounds of the hordes of men dissipated like phantoms in candlelight. He let out a shaky breath, his hands clutching his backpack and his feet planted on the floor.

What the hell was that?

The voice wasn’t Patroclus’. It was Deidamia’s. She was standing in front of him, her head cocked to the side in confusion. “Achilles?” she asked again.

He shuddered and shook his head, swallowing. “Sorry, Dei,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead, “I was thinking about something. What did you say?”

Deidamia smiled and shifted her stance. “You coming to Menalaus’ on Saturday?”

The strange vision was now a thing of the past; the final tendrils of the experience faded from his memory as fast as they’d been dredged up.

At last, Deidamia’s words sunk in. 

The party was this Saturday?! 

“Wasn’t it last week?” Achilles stumbled over his words, finally settling his bearings.

Deidamia’s face was hard to read. “No? It’s this week. Eight pm. Didn’t you check your story?”

The way she spoke about made it sound obvious. She pursed her lips, expecting some kind of response as she absentmindedly twirled her golden hair around her finger. As usual her outfit was pristine and well-chosen for the day; her baby pink sweater complimented her black tulip skirt and tights. She was wearing heels too, nothing fancy but enough to just about get away with. The bag under her arm was Louis Vuitton. It looked new but Achilles never remembered when anyone updated their wardrobes.

“So, you coming or not?” she asked after a prolonged awkward silence. “I was thinking we could maybe meet up before and go together?”

“I- erm...”

He couldn’t just say no. This was _Deidamia_. The two had known each other since freshman year.They weren’t exactly close but she wasn’t evil incarnate or anything. If anything, she was a typical rich girl who was confident in her interests and sometimes got a bit snappy.

She was getting more antsy now, pulling on the corner of her sleeve. It was honestly kind of cute, however Achilles had never considered her someone he’d be attracted to. Sure, she was pretty, a great dancer and threw some of the best get-togethers but he simply wasn’t into her. Going to Menalaus’ together would turn a couple of heads and, knowing Deidamia’s friends, gossip would circle the entire student body before dawn.

“I’ll text you if my Dad says I can,” he lied hurriedly when another silence dragged on too long.

Deidamia’s brow knotted, her smile falling. “He doesn’t usually mind parties,” she said, “and I remember he bought the drinks for your sixteenth last year. Are you grounded right now or something?”

“What? Oh, no, I just...”

A voice cut through the conversation. “Ah, Phthia! Just who I need!”

Thank god for that voice. Any other day it would be a curse but right now it was a blessing.

Dr Chiron came lumbering down the corridor behind Deidamia, his arms overflowing with a tower of textbooks. He came to a clumsy stop between the two teenagers, heaving a comically dramatic sigh. “Phthia, could you help me carry these to the labs? It won’t take five minutes.”

Achilles answered before he could think. “Sure, Sir.”

He took the top half of the textbooks and immediately almost dropped them. They were heavy. It was a miracle Dr Chiron had kept them all in his arms even with his decent physical build.

“Thank you so much,”Dr Chiron was already speed-walking away.

Jittering between saying a proper goodbye to Deidamia and following his teacher, Achilles ended up stumbling over a hasty “see you tomorrow” and rushed off. A confused “see you Saturday!” echoed behind him. He was too far away though. He’d have to text her later.

The corridors were quieting down now. Most students had made it out or arrived at their extracurriculars. A few stragglers were still loitering around lockers or lining up outside teachers’ offices for detentions. Dr Chiron’s steps were brisk as he turned the corner into the science department.

“Sorry about this,” he said, shifting the textbooks into his right arm to fumble for the lab keys. “If you’re late to track just blame me.”

“It’s fine,” Achilles replied. “I was-“

He paused. The two stopped outside the lab. All of a sudden, track didn’t matter. It was a footnote in Achilles’ timetable. Biology was still one of the most boring subjects in the world but he had a chance to see Patroclus again. Sure, he might get a few looks and Dr Chiron would definitely call on him to answer purposefully more difficult questions but it would be worth it. The class was a full two hours.

No, he shouldn’t go. Track was more important than a couple of hours spent with his crush in a subject he didn’t care about where they wouldn’t even be allowed to talk that much. 

“Were you saying something?” Dr Chiron asked, unlocking the lab.

“It’s nothing.”

The books made it inside without issue. Achilles slid his set onto Dr Chiron’s desk and gave them a quick glance. Written in large, rounded letters on the front were the words ‘AP Biology: Cellular Structures’. He grimaced at the title alone. Chances were Patroclus already knew all about it. 

“Well, Phthia, you can be on your way now,” Dr Chiron smiled, already writing his first few notes for the Hawking Lot on the whiteboard. His head dipped in and out of the old textbook the students had used the previous week. “Sorry again for keeping you.”

“It’s fine, Sir,” Achilles said, leaning on the door. He stayed for a moment, wondering if Dr Chiron would say anything else. Only the sound of the pen squeaking against the board met his ears. Eventually, he turned to leave. “See you next lesson, Sir.”

The squeaking stopped. “Is that a farewell I hear from you?” Dr Chiron asked, letting out a breathy laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day you stuck around long enough to say such a thing.”

Achilles could only laugh awkwardly in response. There wasn’t anything to add to the conversation so he pushed off on his heel and made his way back in the direction of his locker.

The school was like a maze for anyone unfamiliar with it. Achilles went this way and that, wandering down a flight of stairs, between courtyards and past classrooms until he arrived the very end of the history department. This place had to be the most inconvenient area for his locker the school could possibly have chosen. Allocated lockers were a real pain sometimes.

He dropped off his school books, pulled out the keys to his sports locker and headed for the changing rooms. Checking his watch, he was already fifteen minutes late. Another five to get there and five to get ready and his coach was definitely going to yell at him. At least Dr Chiron was a somewhat legitimate excuse, though his coach would never accept even that. Punishment however was only lunchtime detention (also known as ten laps of the track and a promise to never be late again) so in the end he wasn’t losing much more than maybe a snide comment or two from the other runners.

Cutting the long route short, he decided to slip through reception. Approaching the double doors that led there though, muffled chatter drifted down from the far end. The school should’ve been mostly quiet but he swung one door open to reveal a whole crowd of students hanging around the reception desk.

The Hawking Lot were already here. They all had winter coats on, many with additional hats and scarves. Some were signing in on a clipboard, some were talking quietly in small groups, others were comparing ring binders for any missed notes. They arrived this early? It made sense since they could walk from Hawking High after school in no time. Still, did they seriously enjoy taking a two-hour class in biology every week?

But Achilles’ eyes barely glossed over these students. The moment he stepped in, he froze, hands clutching the doorknob.

There _he_ was.

Hovering in the corner, face buried in his phone with a slight frown, was Patroclus. A red wool hat now sat over his dark curls and he was wearing an old-looking black parka. One hand was in his pocket, the other scrolled through whatever he was looking at, and his backpack hung lazily off one shoulder.

He was handsome, not in a sexy way but in a chilled out way. His nose and cheeks were rosy from the outside cold, kissed by the afternoon wind. There was an air of stand-offish-ness about him, as if he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Still, his demeanour wasn’t exactly reserved, rather he was simply quiet. Perhaps he didn’t really know the others here? Then again, he did seem to be the more withdrawn type. The type who had a few very close friends but not a larger group.

Achilles swallowed and glanced around. Briseis was nowhere to be seen. Was she in the restroom? Had she not come along at all? Either way, Patroclus was standing right there, on his own, and it seemed as though there were still a few minutes before he left for the labs.

By now, a couple other students were giving the Achaean Academy student in their midst brief glances, their head sometimes flitting between Achilles and Patroclus. Achilles ignored them. They probably remembered him sitting in last week.

Rolling his shoulders back, he lifted a hand to his chest but quickly retracted it, returning it to his side. His heart was racing and every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation. One discreet, nervous exhale later and he stepped over the threshold, the reception door swinging shut behind him.


End file.
